Dead Flowers
by alli524
Summary: Months afterward, Quinn feels guilty for not attending Finn's funeral, she turns up on Rachel's doorstep in New York. Faberry friendship. Background Dantana. Will include Kurtanachel/New York Crew/or whatever the kids are calling it. Only rated M because of language.
1. The Yearbook

**A/N: I don't really know what I'm doing here with this storyline, or if I want to keep writing this, but I was pissed that they never brought Quinn (and Dianna) back for the memorial episode, or even mentioned her absense, seeing as she had so much to do with Finn.  
So I wanted to write something, like an explanation for why she didn't go to Lima. Just to make myself feel better.  
Rated M for language.**

* * *

**_Chapter 1:_****_ The Yearbook_**

It only happened because she had gotten sick.  
Quinn had her outfit for that night all planned out; she had wasted her money on hiring out a cheap, mock 19th century dress, she'd bought a pottle of white face paint, she'd spent hours on youtube finding a tutorial to show her how to fashion her hair. She was going to rub fake blood around her neck; et voila - zombie Marie Antoinette.  
Quinn usually dismissed it as a stupid idea, but she was really excited about Halloween that year.

And then she'd gotten that fucking stomach flu.  
And instead of partying with her friends, she was curled up in a ball at the feet of the toilet.  
In between bouts of retching into the bowl, she found herself counting the mini tiles around the faucet until she thought she might actually go insane.  
She groaned and found enough energy to sit up. Slowly. Slower.  
Her messy, annoying, mouth breathing roommate, kept a heavy stack of newspapers and magazines in the bathroom. It was a habit that Quinn had always found really irritating, but now it seemed like the best idea Rosie had ever had.

She flipped down the lid of the toilet and sat on top of it, hauling the pile into her lap.

_Three month old newspaper  
Five month old newspaper  
A yale newsletter  
Porn_

"Ugh," she mumbled, handling it gingerly, tossing it aside without touching it too much.

_Circulars  
Six month old newspaper_

She tossed them all on the ground beside her before she came to the next item. Her breath caught in her throat.

_William McKinley High Yearbook - 2009_

"What are you doing with this, Rosie?" the feeble croak that came from her raw throat didn't even close to cover how furious she felt.

Quinn had tried to throw this away. She'd tossed it in the kitchen trash. Rosie must have found it and rescued it by placing it in the pile of bathroom reading material that Quinn had always insisted was disgusting and unnecessary.  
With a gentle flick, the pages fell open, predictably, to the spread of her as head cheerleader. They had always been the pages that she visited most often.  
Quinn knew what would happen if she flicked the pages again. The book would fall open to the pages she always visited next.  
She held her breath, staring the book down, as if daring it to upset her.  
She let the breath go and turned the pages until they opened to show her the glee club photo.

"No."

The word burst out of her before she could stop herself. With shaky hands, she shoved the book under the pile and back, where they all went, on the windowsill behind the toilet.  
She slid off of the toilet and lifted the lid, retching a few times.  
She tried to pretend that it was illness and not grief, regret, heartache, that gripped her stomach, but eventually, she sat back, pressing her back against the cool wall, and gave in to her sorrow.  
She'd tried pushing him out of her head, but now he was all she could see; that handsome boy, a head taller than everyone else, standing behind her in the left corner of the photo.  
She pressed a weak hand to her chest as she sobbed.

Rachel had called Quinn herself after it happened. It must have been unimaginably hard for her.

_"What do you want, Berry?"_ was what Quinn said, a teasing smile in her question.

_"It's about Finn,"_ she sounded strained, so Quinn knew it was serious but Rachel was holding herself together so well that Quinn could never have guessed.

Rachel delivered her news, and Quinn sat in her chair, feeling her insides turn to stone.

She hadn't meant for it to happen. She didn't mean to harden herself so that she wouldn't feel the blow. But Rachel broke down on the phone and Quinn had to be the strong one so she stared into the eyes of Medusa and she stayed strong so that her friend didn't have to.  
After Rachel hung up, Quinn's fingers dialled Mercedes, her brain and her heart switched off, but she answered so happily; so free of cares, chatting about her new songs, and Quinn couldn't do it - she just couldn't tell her.  
So instead she hung up and ignored everyone's calls.  
She had meant to go to the funeral, but things had come up. And she had even wanted to go to Shue's stupid memorial thing, but you couldn't just leave Yale to sing sad songs for a whole week.  
But seeing his face for the first time since hearing the news - it had been a hard strike against Quinn's hard heart. And she could feel it shattering in her chest with such force she was surprised it wasn't snapping her bones.

Quinn had once been in a mess of twisted metal. The car had wrapped around her and she had been crushed in the force of it. It had been years since it had happened, but what she had felt after she had gotten hit came back to her now; that feeling of powerlessness, and feeling so small and helpless, and in so much pain.  
But the car, eventually, stopped. And she was taken away and fixed up and everything was going to be okay.  
Everything was not going to be okay here.  
Because Finn was dead.

And nothing that Quinn could do would change that.

She took a lot of deep breaths before wiping her eyes and blowing her nose, flushing the tissue paper down the toilet.

"That's enough," she told herself.

She stood slowly, peeling her clammy skin off of the cool tiles. She staggered dizzily to her room where she tossed things around until she found what she was looking for.  
Months ago, Berry had sent her a train ticket to go and visit her in New York.  
Quinn set the ticket down onto her work desk before she threw herself onto her bed, rubbing her puffy eyes.  
Finn was dead; that much was true. And there was definitely nothing she could do about that.  
But she could return her calls. She could face her friends. She could pay her respects.  
Quinn swallowed hard, shutting her eyes against the waves of guilt and nausea.  
It was about time she used that ticket.


	2. The Suitcase

_**Chapter**_** 2:**_** The Suitcase**_

Quinn took the chain around her neck and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, her other hand tightening around the handle of her wheeled suitcase.  
She had packed poorly and had taken the first available seat to New York.  
The cab driver had gotten lost as they'd entered Bushwick (Quinn had eyed the fare meter warily, suspecting that he was driving in circles on purpose). But they'd finally found it.  
Approaching the building, Quinn had no doubts that she'd found the right place - the _Evita_ soundtrack was on full blast.  
Quinn tucked the necklace back into her blouse and took a deep breath before giving a feeble knock that wasn't heard over the music.  
She was starting to doubt that coming to New York had been such a great idea. Especially unannounced.  
Everyone was probably busy. It didn't look like a huge loft - maybe they wouldn't have any space for her.  
Quinn sighed and knocked. Hard. When nothing happened, she knocked again. Harder.

She heard the music being turned down and then footsteps thumping toward her.  
The door whipped open and Kurt addressed Quinn without glancing at her.

"I'm so glad you're here; I need help with the food before everyone gets here!"

Kurt danced his way back into the kitchen area and Quinn followed him in quietly, casting an eye around the place.  
The walls were so high and there was so much space. It was nice. In a... rustic, eclectic... recycled kind of way. Quinn ran a hand over a grubby orange chair and propped her bag against it.

"Kurt?" she said softly, looking toward the kitchen were he was shimmying to _Rainbow High_, his back turned to her.

"Santana's just gone down to the liquor store - she dropped the bottle of wine that Rachel had been saving for tonight's rehearsal, she should be back any minute," Kurt said, still dancing as he pulled out a knife and started chopping something, "I'm trying out a few fancy nibbles tonight, I could really use a hand in here, Dani."

"Kurt?" Quinn repeated, a little louder.

Kurt was too busy miming the words to the song, chopping along to the beat.

"Kurt!" the volume that escaped Quinn frightened even herself.

He dropped the knife as he spun, raising a hand dramatically to his chest in shock.

"Jesus, Dani, what the hell-"

Quinn watched as Kurt registered her and shot through several emotions in the space of a few seconds, initially he was confused, then happy, then he dissolved into sadness until, finally, he landed on anger.

"I just saw blonde and I thought..." Kurt trailed off, explaining why he'd mistaken Quinn for someone else, "What are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you," Quinn said lamely, forcing a smile, trying to pretend she couldn't taste the poison in Kurt's voice.

She took a deep breath and closed the distance between them, throwing her arms around him. She felt him pull away from her, but she held fast, determined to pretend that everything was okay.

"What can I help you with?"

Kurt didn't move.

"It's been such a long time, hasn't it?" she tried changing the subject, "What have you been up to?"

She regretted the sentence as soon as it left her mouth, seeing his eyes soften into sadness.

"He buried his brother," Quinn heard a familiar voice behind her.

Quinn ignored Santana and took a few quiet, shallow breaths. She never should have come to New York. This had been such a bad idea.

"What are you doing here, Fabray?" Santana asked, rolling the door shut. She walked into the kitchen, lowering the bottle in the paper bag she held in her hands onto the table and taking a seat.

Quinn forced a big smile and turned to face the girl.

"I just had a lazy week so I thought I might stop by and see my friends."

"What friends?" Santana laughed, crossing her legs, "Were you going to see them _after _you came here to make us all mad and uncomfortable?"

Quinn gave a light, musical laugh to try to shrug her off and turned back to the food, pretending to organise them. Or something.

"No, Quinn, don't do that," Santana snapped her arms crossing now as well.

"What?" she replied with a soft, hollow smile.

"Don't do that _thing_ where you pretend that things are okay."

"What _thing_?" Quinn laughed.

"_The thing!" _Santana shouted, jumping to her feet, "The thing! Just STOP IT! JUST STOP!"

The force and strength of Santana's reply shocked them both and Quinn leaned back, away from her, blinking rapidly. She had made a plan for how to act when she'd gotten to New York. She thought that she'd arrive and sit everyone down and apologise and cry and hug and everything would be okay but it hadn't worked out like that. Instead, she'd gone back to what she always did and she pretended.  
The three of them stood in silence and their heads whipped to the door as they heard it being rolled open again.

"Hey, guys!" Dani said as she bounced in.

She started walking to join the group then paused, unsure. Kurt was hovering near the sink, his back to her, but she was sure he was hugging himself. Santana looked mad. And suspiciously close to a very pretty, very unfamiliar blonde girl.

"Is everything okay?" Dani asked, approaching slowly. She laced a protective arm around her girlfriend, eyeing her warily.

"Fine," Santana snapped, snaking herself out of Dani's grip and storming off into the lounge.

"Hi, I'm Dani," she introduced herself to the new girl, extending a hand.

"Quinn," the girl replied with a shaky voice.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," Dani said softly, dropping her rejected hand, following Santana onto the couch.

"Quinn?"

Quinn turned to see Rachel standing in the doorway.  
She had been planning this moment the whole ride over. She was going to grovel. Beg for forgiveness. Apologise for falling out of touch.  
She was going to make Rachel understand why she'd done what she had and she would take whatever anger that Rachel threw at her until that happened.

Quinn was prepared for yelling and crying and blaming and shouting.

Instead, the girl broke out into a run and threw her arms around her.

"I'm really glad you came," Rachel said.


	3. The Couch

**A/N: This chapter is for luvtheheaven. I hope that you and your family are safe and coping.**

**Edit: thanks luvtheheaven for picking that up, it should have been 'said', not 'seen'. and yeah, in my head, I figure Mr Shue would have realised that taking the jacket was juvenile and returned it.  
Thanks everyone who has favourited, followed and reviewed so far it means a lot :)**

_**Chapter 3:**__** The Couch**_

Quinn woke to the heavy sound of rain smashing against the tin roof. She'd never understood why people loved the sound of rain.  
It was annoying, violent and kept her up at night.  
Especially tonight, as she lay on a lumpy couch that smelled like dust and Kurt's cologne.  
She rolled back into the only position that she found comfortable, but a spring was digging into her knee.

Quinn groaned and rolled to her back, thinking about last night.  
After Rachel had come home, the mood of the loft had not lifted, but at least there was someone that was happy to see her. They'd apparently organised a band practice, and they were just waiting on the final member - someone who called himself Starchild.  
But Rachel said that they'd just have to practice another time and took Quinn out for Dinner.  
Just the two of them.  
All night, there was no mention of Finn or Quinn's recent absence.  
They just caught up on old times - both skipping over the time of the funeral.  
It was nice to see Rachel. She had changed a bit; she'd grown up. She looked even more beautiful than the last time Quinn had seen her and there was a newfound confidence to her.

Quinn sighed and leaned over, fetching her phone.

_03:52_

Quinn groaned and tossed her phone on the ground, sitting up. Sleep just wasn't going to happen for a while.  
She wrapped the thin blanket around her shoulders and fumbled around for the remote.  
She clicked on the TV and sat back as the last DVD in the player turned itself on.

"Who was watching _The Prince of Egypt_?" Quinn asked out loud with a frown.

"Don't tell anyone, but it's one of Santana's favourites," came a whisper from behind her.

Quinn's head snapped around to find Dani leaving Santana's corner of the house.  
She went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of water from the tap before taking a seat next to Quinn.

"She watches it when no one else is home," Dani continued, handing Quinn a glass.

"Thank you," Quinn mumbled, taking a sip of the dirty New York water out of politeness.

Quinn set down her glass and turned to Dani.

"What are you doing up?"

"Santana snores," Dani said, turning her nose up.

"That's right," Quinn laughed, "Brittany and I used to banish her to the lounge during sleepovers. Have you tried blocking her nose? That works, too."

"She gets really mad," Dani smiled, "But I usually just come out here and fall asleep instead. It's pretty comfy besides that one spring that digs into my knee."

"How are you guys doing? Your relationship, I mean?"

"Pretty good, I think," Dani said, "I mean, she's pretty hard to read sometimes, but I'm pretty sure she likes me."

They shared a light laugh.

"I never really imagined her in a relationship outside of Brittany, I guess, but that ship has long sailed."

There was a slight silence, filled only by the sound of the cartoon on the screen while Quinn tried to work up the courage to ask what she needed to.

"Dani?"

The girl turned to Quinn.

"Were you and Santana together when... when it happened?"

Dani frowned, shaking her head slowly, not understanding the question.

"When what happened?"

Quinn looked uncomfortable and pulled the blanket around her a little tighter.

"Oh you mean..." Dani said, a little loudly, "Oh I'm sorry, yeah, it was early days, but I was here when she left for the funeral."

"What was it like?" Quinn asked, avoiding eye contact.

Dani took a slow breath, thinking.

"She pretended she was okay at first," she said finally, "She called me to ask me to set up someone to cover for her while she went to Lima for a few days and when I asked why she just said that some boy had died."

Quinn stiffened next to her, pulling the blanket even tighter.

"She came back and she was still 'fine'," Dani continued, "Santana distracted herself by throwing herself into our relationship and at first I thought it was a good thing but when I figured out that her heart wasn't really in it, I pulled away and she started taking lots of shifts at the Diner, instead.  
"Kurt tried to talk to them a lot. He brought up Finn all the time but it always made Santana mad and sarcastic and made Rachel cry so he started telling me about him, instead. I think he just needed someone to talk to, and I didn't mind hearing about him; he seemed like a pretty cool guy. He told me stories until I felt like I knew him personally, it was weird.  
"I barely saw Rachel for a while and when I did, she was always crying or her head was somewhere else."

Dani turned to take a sneaky look at Quinn to make sure that she was okay before she continued again.

"But then they went away to that memorial week at their old High School. From what San tells me, they sung stupid, sad songs for a week but that seemed to help them. I think it was just comforting; like the realisation that they weren't alone in this. Rachel came back more well-adjusted. Now she can talk about Finn with a smile, sometimes not even a trace of sadness. Kurt doesn't feel the need to discuss him 24/7 and Santana tears up when something reminds her of him, she doesn't feel the need to deny the fact that he mattered to her. So she goes back into her room and finds his jacket and puts it on," Dani trailed off.  
Santana had once told her that it felt like a hug from him whenever she wore it, but made Dani swear not to tell anyone. Dani pursed her lips, making sure that it wouldn't slip out.

"What jacket?" Quinn was asking.

"His letterman jacket," Dani replied.

"_Santana_ got it? Why? They weren't even close!"

"She loved him," Dani snapped protectively, "She even turned up to the funeral."

There was a sharp silence. Both girls were frowning toward the TV, realising slowly that what they had said had been wrong and unkind.

"So they're okay?" Quinn broke the silence gently, "They're not sad anymore?"

"They're all fine, yeah," Dani said, lifting her glass of water to her mouth.

"What do they say about me?" Quinn asked, resting her chin on her knees.

Dani took a big gulp before she turned to Quinn. She had overheard the three talk about Quinn after the funeral; about how she was selfish and useless and thoughtless. About how they'd needed her and she'd let them down.

"They don't really talk about you," Dani lied.

Quinn knew it wasn't the truth, but it made her feel better, anyway.

"What about last night?" Quinn asked, "After Rachel and I went out for dinner."

Dani sighed. Kurt and Santana had kindly asked Starchild to leave after he turned up, explaining that there would be no band practice tonight.  
Then they'd sat around, eating what Kurt had so painstakingly prepared and the wine that Santana had bought.  
The more they drank, the more they'd talked. And what they'd had to say about Quinn had been unkind.

"I think you have some making up to do," was all Dani said, "They're not your biggest fans."

Quinn nodded and lifted her head a little.

"Thanks for being honest with me."

Dani gave a small smile.  
Quinn sighed and collapsed back onto her knees. She was still clinging to the idea that this whole situation could be swept under the carpet; that she could ignore their feelings until they got over them and they could all be sort-of friends again.  
Quinn just wanted that off her consciousness.

"I should let you sleep, anyway," Dani said, draining what was left in her glass and standing up.

Quinn wanted to ask her to stay but didn't. It had felt good having someone that felt on her side, but it would be strange of her to keep Dani here with her. They barely knew each other.  
Dani left and Quinn felt more lonely than ever.  
She stretched out on the lumpy couch and tried to watch the movie.


	4. The Little Girl

**.**

_**Chapter 4:**__** The Little Girl**_

Quinn had much too much hair as a baby.  
It would tangle into impossible knots while she slept and twist itself into incredible messes in the wind.  
After bathtime, she would hide under beds and in cupboards, terrified of the awful comb that would be run through her tresses and hurt her scalp. Her mother had an awful time getting her to sit still enough to brush her hair, and Quinn would fight her to the last strand of hair.  
It was a time of her life that Quinn was happy forgetting, but it was that trait of hers that made it so easy to pick out the girl she was looking for.

Beth's hair was a lot lighter than Quinn's was at her age, but it was exactly as long, thick and unruly.

Watching her through the doorway, Quinn could see the tell-tale signs of nap hair - stuck down and curlier on one side. And knew that she must have not long woken up.  
Quinn smiled, wondering what it would feel like to brush Beth's hair in the morning.  
Wondering what it would be like to kiss her sweet scented head.  
Then Quinn shook away those thoughts; she'd long since given up the daydreams she'd once had about snaking Beth away from Shelby.  
And besides, Beth looked so unbelievably happy sitting on the floor of her daycare, singing songs from Lentl.

"Quinn?" she heard Shelby's voice say.

As the kids all turned to follow Shelby's gaze, Quinn gasped and pulled away from the doorway, her back against the hallway door.  
She'd only meant to stand outside the building.  
At their dinner the night before, Rachel had mentioned Shelby and the musical daycare that she'd formed in New York.  
It had taken Quinn only a quick google search to find the address and she'd gotten up early to venture out into the New York streets before she had to explain to anyone where she was going.  
She'd turned up early, but not early enough to see Shelby arrive.  
So she'd entered the building.  
And then she'd found the right doorway. She told herself that she'd just peek in, but that peek hadn't been long enough.  
Quinn found herself transfixed; completely unable to move.  
She'd stood there, half-covered by the door, for four whole songs before she was noticed.

"Just... keep singing, kids, I'll be right back," she heard Shelby say, "Marie, could you watch the for a little bit?"

Quinn pulled away from the wall and started walking as quickly and quietly as she could toward the exit.  
She could have made it if the hall hadn't been so long.

"Quinn."

Quinn stopped, turning on the spot.

"Oh, hey, Shelby," she said lamely, raising a hand in greeting.

To her surprise, Shelby grinned and waved, walking toward her and quickly closed the gap between them.  
She gave her a quick hug (one-sided, because Quinn was suddenly frozen to the spot).

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh... Rachel mentioned you'd moved here," Quinn explained, "And I just... I just wanted..." she trailed off.

"To see her?"

Quinn nodded.

"Then come in," Shelby smiled, motioning back toward the room, "Come and sing some songs with us."

"No thanks," she returned the smile, "I'm not really familiar with the songs."

"We'll find something; make it work."

"No," Quinn said, more sternly this time.

"Okay," Shelby shrugged.

"How is she?" Quinn asked eagerly.

"She's great," Shelby said, grinning, "Really, really good."

"Tell me everything."

"Uhh... she was toilet trained shortly before her third birthday... her favourite colour is green... got a nasty flu last year..."

Shelby trailed off and looked at Quinn, expecting her to stop telling her such useless facts. But that didn't happen.  
Quinn looked overjoyed; as if she were dying of thirst and every new bit of information was a drop of water.

"More?" Quinn pleaded wistfully.

A slow smile spread across Shelby's face.

"She loves florals and pretty little dresses," Shelby continued, "her best friend's name is Kaya, and her favourite food is plain pasta with nothing on it."

"And she's beautiful," Quinn sighed.

"She is."

Quinn nodded and looked down at her feet.

"Are you here to plant some incriminating evidence on me to steal her back?" Shelby asked.

"No," Quinn laughed, "I'm over that phase now."

"Good," Shelby smiled.

There was a silence.

"I really should go back in now; Marie has trouble controlling the big groups."

Quinn nodded.

"Come and say hello," Shelby insisted kindly.

"No, no," Quinn argued, "I just wanted to see her. And now I have."

She sighed and crossed her arms.

"I'm sorry for turning up without warning."

"It's okay," Shelby said, "Stop by any time. Beth knows all about you, I'm sure she'd love to meet you properly."

"Sure," Quinn smiled feebly.

She had no intention of returning. Beth was born out of lies and betrayal.  
In a way, she reminded Quinn of the worst, most difficult decisions she'd made in her life. Beth reminded her of Puck, but also of Finn.  
Of that time that she manipulated him and lied to him and tricked him.  
Quinn could feel her heart tighten in her chest.

Even from all of this; all of the bad things that Quinn had done; Beth was still perfect.  
Beth was so beautiful and Quinn didn't deserve to have that kind of beauty in her life.


End file.
